Anonymous testimony
I worked for Celebrity Cruises for ten years.
Ten years of steady career growth, commitment, and responsibility. Ten years of showing up, even in the most difficult circumstances.
During the Covid period—one of the most challenging crises the cruise industry has ever faced—I stayed. I continued working on board, managing emergencies, supporting passengers, and ensuring operations continued under constant pressure, uncertainty, and fear.
In addition to my official duties, I was asked to coordinate assistance operations for passengers affected by Covid. This was a highly sensitive role that required organization, emotional resilience, and constant availability.
It was not part of my job description. It was an additional responsibility.
Still, I accepted it—as I always had—because I believed in my work and in the importance of stepping up when needed.
Carrying responsibility without support
At that time, I had a colleague who, on paper, was supposed to be my superior.
This person was hired directly into a higher position than mine, without having built a career within the company and without comparable operational experience.
Instead of receiving guidance or support, I was often left completely alone managing critical situations. There was no backing, no shared responsibility, no protection.
The workload increased, working hours became longer, and stress became constant. Yet I kept going, because I felt responsible—for the passengers, for the ship, and for the company.
Asking to grow—and being denied
After ten years of service, with no warnings, no disciplinary actions, and no negative records of any kind, I asked for something reasonable:
the opportunity to continue my career progression.
The answer was no.
A firm refusal, without clear justification—despite my experience, my role during the Covid emergency, and my proven dedication.
That was the moment something broke.
When you realize merit is no longer enough
You realize that giving more is no longer enough.
You realize that dedication is not always recognized.
You realize that in some systems, career progression is not based on merit, experience, or loyalty, but on dynamics that have little to do with the work actually performed.
Burnout does not happen overnight.
It builds slowly, when effort is met with silence, when responsibility is not matched by support, and when personal well-being becomes the hidden cost of keeping things running.
The aftermath no one talks about
After returning from my last contract, my body and mind collapsed.
Today, I am under psychiatric medication and in therapy for an acute form of depression.
This is the part that rarely makes it into official narratives.
The uniform comes off, the contract ends—but the consequences remain.
Burnout does not stop when you leave the ship.
Why I am telling this story
I am not writing out of anger or revenge.
I am writing because stories like mine are not isolated cases.
Behind the smiles and polished image of the cruise industry are crew members who work beyond their limits, carry enormous responsibility without adequate support, and are stopped precisely when they ask to grow.
Talking about burnout is not weakness.
It is accountability.
And perhaps, by sharing these experiences, meaningful change can finally begin
If you’ve experienced burnout while working on a cruise ship, please share your story in the comments below.
I worked for Celebrity Cruises for ten years.
Ten years of steady career growth, commitment, and responsibility. Ten years of showing up, even in the most difficult circumstances.
During the Covid period—one of the most challenging crises the cruise industry has ever faced—I stayed. I continued working on board, managing emergencies, supporting passengers, and ensuring operations continued under constant pressure, uncertainty, and fear.
In addition to my official duties, I was asked to coordinate assistance operations for passengers affected by Covid. This was a highly sensitive role that required organization, emotional resilience, and constant availability.
It was not part of my job description. It was an additional responsibility.
Still, I accepted it—as I always had—because I believed in my work and in the importance of stepping up when needed.
Carrying responsibility without support
At that time, I had a colleague who, on paper, was supposed to be my superior.
This person was hired directly into a higher position than mine, without having built a career within the company and without comparable operational experience.
Instead of receiving guidance or support, I was often left completely alone managing critical situations. There was no backing, no shared responsibility, no protection.
The workload increased, working hours became longer, and stress became constant. Yet I kept going, because I felt responsible—for the passengers, for the ship, and for the company.
Asking to grow—and being denied
After ten years of service, with no warnings, no disciplinary actions, and no negative records of any kind, I asked for something reasonable:
the opportunity to continue my career progression.
The answer was no.
A firm refusal, without clear justification—despite my experience, my role during the Covid emergency, and my proven dedication.
That was the moment something broke.
When you realize merit is no longer enough
You realize that giving more is no longer enough.
You realize that dedication is not always recognized.
You realize that in some systems, career progression is not based on merit, experience, or loyalty, but on dynamics that have little to do with the work actually performed.
Burnout does not happen overnight.
It builds slowly, when effort is met with silence, when responsibility is not matched by support, and when personal well-being becomes the hidden cost of keeping things running.
The aftermath no one talks about
After returning from my last contract, my body and mind collapsed.
Today, I am under psychiatric medication and in therapy for an acute form of depression.
This is the part that rarely makes it into official narratives.
The uniform comes off, the contract ends—but the consequences remain.
Burnout does not stop when you leave the ship.
Why I am telling this story
I am not writing out of anger or revenge.
I am writing because stories like mine are not isolated cases.
Behind the smiles and polished image of the cruise industry are crew members who work beyond their limits, carry enormous responsibility without adequate support, and are stopped precisely when they ask to grow.
Talking about burnout is not weakness.
It is accountability.
And perhaps, by sharing these experiences, meaningful change can finally begin
If you’ve experienced burnout while working on a cruise ship, please share your story in the comments below.
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